Justus, Justitia, Justice!
by Jo. T
Summary: One of the WestWingers is the victim of a crime, and it is up to their colleagues to put the pieces back together.
1. DISCLAIMER

TITLE: Justus. Justitia. Justice. GENRE: Drama RATING: PG SUMMARY: One of the West-Wingers is the victim of a crime and it is up to their colleagues to put the pieces back together DISCLAIMER: Much as I would love them to be mine, the characters alas do not belong to me, I'm simply borrowing them to have a little fun 


	2. PART I

JUSTUS, JUSTITIA, JUSTICE!  
  
PART I  
  
  
  
The head of the Communications Director, Toby Ziegler, appeared from his office, emerging into the bullpen of the Communications Department.  
  
"Ginger!" he bellowed. "Ginger!"  
  
"What?" the indignant red-haired aide asked him.  
  
"You seen Sam today?" (he was talking about his underling, Sam Seaborn).  
  
"He's not arrived yet."  
  
"He's not arrived? It's 8.30. He told me yesterday that he would be here 7.30 at the latest. I should have known! So help him when I get my hands on him."  
  
"Calm down, Toby! There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation." Ginger attempted to appease.  
  
"And I shall very much look forward to hearing that explanation when Mr. Seaborn comes to see me in my office, directly on his arrival." With that, Toby's head withdrew, back into his office, followed in quick succession by the loud bang of the door slamming. Ginger stood looking on.  
  
"I don't think I'd like to be in Sam Seaborn's shoes later on." Ginger said quietly to herself.  
  
X ~ X ~ X  
  
8.57am EST  
  
A whirlwind in the guise of Sam Seaborn whizzed through the Communications Bullpen, punctuated by the loud slamming of the door to the young man's office. On his way past, Ginger had attempted to tell Sam that Toby wanted him to go straight into his office, Sam's mind however, was evidently focussed on the sanctuary of his office, so much so that he completely disregarded her.  
  
"Ginger!" Toby shouted from within the confines of his own office. In response Ginger opened the door and stuck her head into the room, almost an inversion of the occurrence earlier that morning.  
  
"Yes Toby? I did try and tell him that you wanted to see him, but he didn't seem to take much notice of me. Would you like me to go get him for you, tell him that you want to see him right now?"  
  
"Oh no, Ginger." Toby said dangerously. "That's quite all right. I'll get him myself." Toby set a grim look of determination on his face, reached for his ball and started hurling it at the partition between his and Sam's offices, whilst Ginger ducked out of the room, grimacing. There was no response from Sam, despite the repeated 'thud, thud'. Usually, that would be sufficient to summon his deputy at break-neck speed, that day it provoked no response whatsoever. To say that Toby was displeased was correct to a degree, it was however about as proportionally accurate as saying that the ocean is larger than a flea. Toby deliberately rose to his feet, marched to his door and through it, passed an astonished Ginger, and flung open the door to his Deputy's office.  
  
It was dark in the room, so dark in fact that all that could be seen was Toby's silhouette back lit from the bullpen, creating a daunting shape in the doorway,  
  
"Sam." He began quietly. "You've managed to find your way in at last, I see. If I'd known how difficult you found it to locate the building, I would have bought you a guide-book or found you a city pamphlet, I mean, the White House is in all of them, and it's not as if it's signposted or anything."  
  
"Toby, do you mind? I'm a little busy right now. I have a thing to do for Leo before staff." The man kept his face down, hiding his chiselled good looks.  
  
"You have a thing?" Toby's voice was very low and very dangerous.  
  
"Yeah. I have a thing."  
  
"A thing. What thing, Sam?"  
  
"It's a thing."  
  
"Well, how are you going to be able to do your 'thing', with all the lights off?" Toby flicked the light switch, illuminating the previously dark office. Toby saw Sam clearly now, sitting behind his desk, his chin resting cupped in his right hand. Sam blinked his eyes, a natural response to the sudden brightness of the room. Toby was shocked. "Sam, you look like hell. You look like you've been run over by a truck."  
  
"Funny you should say that. That's pretty much how it feels." His dishevelled looking deputy said with a bitter, wry smile. The young man's usually immaculate appearance was no longer so. His shirt was creased and his hair in disarray. Sam shuffled some papers that sat in front of him on his desk and then reached pointedly into his inside jacket pocket, almost entirely disregarding Toby's presence. "Dammit!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Sam?" Toby's tone remained low.  
  
"My glasses. They broke. Man, my head will really be killing me by the end of the day if I don't use them."  
  
"What happened to your glasses, Sam?"  
  
"I told you. They broke."  
  
"They broke, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Before I get round to asking you how you broke them not to mention why the hell you're so late, I think I should perhaps advise you that now might be the ideal opportunity for you to get out the spare pair that you keep here."  
  
"That Toby, is an excellent idea." Sam complied with the sage recommendation, leaving the papers that, until then had held his attention. Swivelling his desk chair so that his back was to Toby. He leaned forward and reached down to the drawer.  
  
As he was leaning down, Sam felt a sharp pain pierce his head and felt a surge of nausea. In response to this, Sam lifted his right hand to his temple until his equilibrium had righted itself and the feelings of nausea had subsided.  
  
Toby stepped closer.  
  
"Everything alright, Mr. Seaborn?" Toby sneered. "Now is not the time for hypochondria. Especially as you have 'a thing' to do before staff." He added.  
  
As Toby stepped around the desk, he quickly caught a glimpse of Sam's shirt, which until that moment had either been facing away from him or hidden by the back of his chair. His brow furrowed as he focussed on the collar of the younger man's shirt.  
  
"Sam, you've got something on your shirt collar, unless of course you've started to buy shirts with decorative collars. I get the feeling though, that isn't your style. Josh, I don't know, you? No way." Toby's voice became filled with concern for his Deputy. "You want to tell me how it happened, Sam?"  
  
"Huh?" Toby gently placed his hand on his deputy's shoulder, as he leaned in closer to take a look at the provenance of the "pattern".  
  
"The blood, Sam. The blood. How did it happen?"  
  
Sam momentarily looked confused, he then cautiously raised his left hand to the back of his head. When he removed it and brought it down to view it was stained red, and felt warm and sticky.  
  
"Sam?" Toby prompted him, perching himself on the edge of Sam's desk. "You hit your head?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How Sam? How did you hit your head?"  
  
"I didn't hit it."  
  
"You just said you did."  
  
"Well I didn't. A blunt object did."  
  
"A blunt object? Sam, I'm not even going to pretend that I understand what you're telling me."  
  
"Something blunt and heavy impacted with the back of my head, Toby. Case closed?"  
  
"No! The case most certainly is not closed. How did your head and a blunt object end up colliding, Sam?" Toby's patience was really being stretched now, but he knew that he had to get to the heart of the problem.  
  
"Someone used it to hit me with."  
  
"Why'd someone hit you Sam?" The younger man's hands began to tremble, slightly as if weighted by the blood at which he was staring most intently. "Sam?" Toby looked at him, now incredibly concerned, then he turned towards the door. "Ginger!" she appeared.  
  
"What now, Mr. Ziegler?"  
  
"Ginger, go find Josh. Tell him to get over here and that it's an emergency. Then get a cup of sweet, hot tea."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it." Toby said, wearily. He turned his attention back to his young deputy. "Why did someone hit you Sam?" Toby's voice was very quiet and gentle now, a marked contrast to the low and dangerous tone that he had used so readily earlier.  
  
"So they could mug me Toby. Two guys mugged me." Seaborn blurted out. "I have just become an integral part of the victims of street crimes statistics!"  
  
"My God! Are you all right?" Sam shot Toby a 'what-do-you-think' look. "OK." Toby conceded. "That was a stupid question."  
  
"Toby?" A head of unruly hair attached to a wiry frame raced through the door and into Sam's office. "Ginger told Donna that it was an emergency." Toby shifted his position to enable the newly arrived figure of Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, to see Sam, who was sitting in the chair looking rather dazed and a little pallid, his hand once again at his temple.  
  
"Sam? Toby, what happened to him?"  
  
"Says he was mugged by two guys."  
  
"He was mugged? You were mugged. Aren't we supposed to have done something about that? If not, we should. Perhaps we should talk to Leo." Toby cleared his throat in an attempt to end Josh's rant. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Are you all right? My God. You're bleeding." He said, eventually noticing the red stains.  
  
"Nothing gets passed you, does it Josh?"  
  
"Why's your head bleeding?"  
  
"Someone hit him, Josh."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Something not entirely dissimilar to your level of tact."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Blunt, Josh. He means blunt. Anyhow, do you two mind. I am still in the room, you know."  
  
"God. Yes. Sam, what happened?"  
  
"Haven't we been through this all already?"  
  
"I was mugged Josh."  
  
"What did they take?"  
  
"My wallet, my watch, my cell phone and my brief case, complete with laptop."  
  
"I bet they thought that they'd struck gold."  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You get hurt other than the knock on the head?"  
  
"They held a blade to my throat, then they hit me on the head, which you know about, and then, whilst I was down, they kicked me in the stomach a couple of times."  
  
"My God, Sam. Are you alright?"  
  
"I was mugged, Josh."  
  
Toby growled.  
  
"You really should go to the hospital. Get that head checked out."  
  
"I'll be fine, Josh."  
  
"You know, Sam. Much as it pains me to say it, he's right and actually having to admit that, as you know, goes very much against my principles."  
  
"You reported it to the police?"  
  
"No. You think I should?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Sam, give the damn police a call."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"No, after the mid-terms. Of course now!"  
  
"Can't I do it after staff?"  
  
"Look, we'll give the police a call, go to staff, find the First Lady and get her to check out your head, that will be quicker than going to the hospital, anyhow, and by the time all that's been done, the police will be here, you can make your statement, and it will all be over and done with."  
  
"Here's the tea you wanted, Toby." Ginger said as she came through the door and handed it to the Communications Director. He in turn, knelt down in front of Sam and held it out to the young man. He took it gratefully, his hands still trembling a little.  
  
"Drink this Sam, it'll help." Toby instructed. Sam lifted it to his lips slowly and began to drink, but the cup had to be steadied in the young man's shaking hands by Toby. While this was taking place, there was the sound of Josh's voice as he spoke on the phone to the DC police. Sam drained the cup full. Toby was right, it had helped, a little at any rate. Josh, hanging up the phone, said:  
  
"All done. They're sending someone over. They should be here in about an hour."  
  
"Good." Toby affirmed. "Now, alas, it's rime for staff. Think you're up to it, Sam?"  
  
"Yeah. I can't just spend the day sitting here." He made to get up, but was unsteady on his feet, so Toby looped his arm around Sam's waist to provide support until he had regained his bearings and righted his balance.  
  
"OK?"  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
Neither Josh nor Toby wanted to crowd the young man, knowing how independent he was, so they took a step back as Sam began the journey from the back of his desk. On completion, Josh placed himself at his best friend's side, whilst Toby strategically filtered to the back, just in case anything untoward happened as they walked through the halls of the White House. They walked slowly but surely along the halls until they reached their destination: Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry's office.  
  
"We O.K. to go in, Margaret?" Josh asked Leo's aide.  
  
"Sure guys, in you go." She responded.  
  
"Oh, and Margaret," Toby added, "when you see Donna and all the other aides, as doubtless you will during our meeting, then please quash any notion that she may have that something is wrong."  
  
"Is anything wrong?" Toby shot Margaret a look that could, were looks able to kill, have wiped out a small country with ease and poise. Wisely, Margaret decided not to probe further.  
  
The three entered Leo's office and headed straight to the couch, where they sat themselves; Sam in the middle while Toby and Josh sat one either side of him. Leo was standing behind his desk waiting for the group to settle. Press Secretary, C.J. Cregg was already seated in a comfortable armchair when the other staffers arrived. 


	3. PART II

JUSTUS, JUSTITIA, JUSTICE!  
  
PART II  
  
  
  
"Hi guys." C.J. greeted Sam, Toby and Josh. "Everything OK?"  
  
"Yeah." Josh.  
  
"Sure." Sam.  
  
"What have you heard?" Toby with suspicion.  
  
"Hey, I've not heard a thing, but it does sound to me as if someone is acting a little defensive." C.J. said with a playful grin.  
  
"No, no. nothing wrong." Toby began, wondering how on earth she had failed to notice the red stain.  
  
"Two guys mugged me." Said Sam bluntly. The smile instantly disappeared from C.J.'s face, and Leo turned abruptly towards the congregated group.  
  
"You were mugged?" C.J. asked, her voice etched with shock and concern. "My God, are you alright?" It was at this point that C.J. noticed the blood that was drying on Sam's shirt collar. "My God, Samuel, you're bleeding."  
  
"I think it's actually stopped." Toby said in a weak attempt to offer reassurance.  
  
"You were hit on the head?"  
  
"Yeah, with a blunt object." Josh added in that detail.  
  
"You should see a doctor about that."  
  
"I know." Toby concurred. "I was hoping that the First Lady would be able to take a quick look."  
  
"You hurt anywhere else, Sam?"  
  
"They held a knife to his throat, and when he was on the ground after they'd hit him on the head, they kicked him in the stomach."  
  
"I'll go and see if the First Lady," volunteered Leo, "if not, you're going straight to the hospital Sam." Leo left his office and walked along to the Oval Office to ask the President about the availability of the First Lady.  
  
"Have you reported it to the police, Sam?"  
  
"Not yet." Sam shook his head. "Josh rang the D.C. police before we came down here and they said that someone would be here in about an hour."  
  
"They take anything?"  
  
"His watch, his wallet, his cell phone and his briefcase that had his laptop in."  
  
"You shock me Joshua, that you failed to add the word 'tongue' to your list."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It seems to me that you've been answering the majority of the questions that have been addressed to Sam since you all arrived." Josh looked sheepish and then responded.  
  
"Very funny, Claudia Jean. I'm simply giving my best friend a helping hand."  
  
"Or mouth." C.J. snickered.  
  
"You're mollycoddling him Josh."  
  
"I am not."  
  
"You are too. Toby's right."  
  
"Hello. I am still here, you know."  
  
Leo McGarry chose that moment to re-enter the room with President Josiah Bartlet hot on his heels.  
  
"Keep your seats." Jed quickly said, before they all had time to snap up to a standing position. "Sam. You OK?" The President asked him gently. "My wife will be along in a couple of minutes to take a look at you. Charlie's just gone to find her."  
  
"Thank you, Sir." Sam said meekly.  
  
"Not at all, Sam. Seriously, you all right?" There was genuine concern in the voice of the President.  
  
"Shaken up mainly, Sir. It all came as a bit of a shock."  
  
"I can see." The President nodded, after noticing that Sam's hands had gingerly begun to shake once more. The President put his hand on Sam's knee, while Josh put a protective arm around his friend's shoulder. Leo and Toby just looked at one another while C.J. attempted to offer comforting words to Sam.  
  
The door opened for First Lady, Abigail Bartlet, who was carrying her black medical bag in her right hand. As she walked into the room the President and C.J. moved aside to reveal Sam, while Toby stood up to allow the First Lady access to his Deputy. Josh, however, refused to move from his seat.  
  
"Hey Sam."  
  
"Mrs. Bartlet."  
  
"You OK?" Sam nodded grimly. "You were mugged?" Sam nodded again. "And they hit you on the head?" Again, Sam nodded.  
  
"They held a knife to his throat and kicked him in the stomach, too." Josh interjected.  
  
"OK. Do you think you could all just give me a couple of minutes alone with him, so I can check him out." She addressed all the expectant eyes in the room.  
  
"Sure." Leo said, ushering everyone to the door. Josh stayed put. "Josh."  
  
"Can't I stay? Why can't I stay?"  
  
"Abbey?" The President asked, thinking that Josh's presence might be helpful. In turn, she addressed Sam, who seemed to nod consent his to allowing Josh to stay with him.  
  
"How do you feel, Samuel?" The First Lady asked as she twisted him to the side to enable her to take a look at the back of his head.  
  
"OK." The First Lady shot a glance at Josh to get him to fill in the blanks.  
  
"He was disoriented earlier. His hands have been shaking. He's also a little dazed." The First Lady nodded her thanks to Josh as she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of surgical gloves, some cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic.  
  
"I'll just clean this up for you, Sam, then we'll look to see if it's done any lasting damage, any need for stitches, sutures, etcetera." Abbey liberally applied the antiseptic to the cotton wool, and then dabbed it onto the cut on the back of Sam's head. As it was applied, Sam winced. "This will sting a little, Sam." Abbey decided that she would attempt to distract him a little through making casual conversation. "Got any exciting projects on this week, Sam."  
  
"Yeah. I'll be working on opposition prep. for the new street crime legislation, comprising of opposition to the new moderate, rehabilitative reforms. Isn't the timing opportune?" This was said with great bitterness, so Abbey took the initiative to change the subject.  
  
"Your stomach hurt?"  
  
"My ego mostly." Mrs. Bartlet glared at him. "It's a little tender, maybe. It's alright."  
  
"Bruised?"  
  
"I don't know. I've not looked."  
  
"He's worried that the color won't suit him." Josh added helpfully. They both shot him scathing looks.  
  
Abbey finished cleaning up Sam's head.  
  
"Don't worry Sam, it's not too bad. You shouldn't need any stitches, it just caused a bit of a bloody clump. It'll most likely sting when you wash your hair." Abbey added smiling, trying to lift the tone.  
  
She held her right index finger in front of Sam's face for him to follow. "You have a mild concussion. Make sure you take it easy. Any problems, come find me or go straight to the hospital." Abbey looked pointedly at Josh, to emphasise to him that he would be forced to play 'Guardian Angel', 'Big Brother' or any variant form thereof. Josh nodded silently.  
  
"Now, let's have a look at this stomach. And I can assure you its not gratuitous, my wanting you take your shirt off, before you give yourself delusions of grandeur." Sam smiled, as he was supposed to do.  
  
Sam undid his shirt and pulled off his T-shirt to reveal the mark left by two solid footprints, tinged a hue of dark-blue, purple.  
  
"That's pretty, Sam. Brings out the blue of your eyes." Sam smiled. Abbey gently probed the bruised area, and Sam winced again.  
  
"Tender?"  
  
"A little, yeah."  
  
"It's just bruised, though. No permanent damage, you'll just be a little bit sore for a while." Sam nodded. "And if you feel anything's wrong, anything at all, then tell someone. Don't be a martyr, don't suffer in silence."  
  
"No Ma'am."  
  
"Josh?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Have you reported it yet?"  
  
"D.C. police are meant to be sending someone over to take a statement." The First Lady nodded.  
  
"You take it easy. And remember, strong and silent is not the way forward. You might have a headache, feel a little nauseous, that's normal for the concussion, just don't be afraid to tell anyone. To be fair, I'd be happier if you took the day off, but I get the feeling that that's not likely to happen, is it? Don't be a martyr, Sam."  
  
"OK."  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Take care."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Abbey got up and left the room. As she opened the door, the group on the far side practically fell into Leo's office.  
  
"Abbey, everything alright?"  
  
"He'll be fine. He has a mild concussion. He'll be OK Jed." She reassured her husband.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The group returned to Leo's office to begin staff, whilst the President walked out of the office with his wife.  
  
"You sure he'll be OK? I don't just mean physically, Abbey."  
  
"He'll be fine. He's strong. He's a fighter. He'll be fine."  
  
"Thank you, Abbey."  
  
X ~ x ~ x  
  
"You feeling OK, Sam?" Josh asked as he, Sam and Toby walked back to the Communications bullpen after staff.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You OK?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Sam, do you need to go see the First Lady?" Toby asked firmly.  
  
"No, Toby. I'm fine, really."  
  
As they walked through the heart of the bullpen, the small convoy was stopped by one of the communication Aides, Cathy. She went up to Toby and spoke directly into his ear. Toby nodded.  
  
"Thanks Cathy. Sam," he said, turning his attention to his deputy. "Cathy says that there are a couple of police officers waiting in your office to take your statement. They've been there about five minutes, apparently, and are talking about leaving momentarily, unless you make your statement right away."  
  
"OK. Thanks."  
  
"You all right to do it alone, Sam, or do you want Josh to go in with you?"  
  
"Ah, yeah." Unsure as to which option it was that Sam had agreed to, Toby took the proverbial bull by the horns and made the decision for him.  
  
"Josh, go in with him." Josh nodded and herded Sam towards his office.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm ready." Sam took a deep breath, opened his office door and walked in where he was greeted by the two officers. 


	4. PART III

JUSTUS, JUSTITIA, JUSTICE!  
  
PART III  
  
  
  
"I left my home at 6.30am EST to begin my walk to work, the White House, actually. I'm the Deputy Communications Director, one of the most prolific and prestigious occupations. I mean, I get to provide words for the President of the United States. Anyway, I digress.  
  
"The sky was a wonderful hue of azure and as I walked along I was thinking how wonderful a day it was. Anyway, as I got to the junction on 36th and 43rd, it would have been approximately 6.57am EST by then. I felt an additional presence in my little conscious circle of personal space, someone was encroaching on my domain. Before I had time to think, there was a second man. They approached me from behind and I felt something cool and sharp pressed up against my throat. I was unsure of what it actually was until I saw it glint in the sunlight. I saw it in my peripheral vision, then I realised straight away, that it was a blade.  
  
"The men demanded my watch, my wallet and my cell phone, then they snatched my briefcase, which contained my laptop, which incidentally contains some material pertaining, ironically, to some of the street crime legislation, on which we are currently working. If there's a God, or any justice, they'll read it and it'll scare the crap out of them. Once they had relieved me of my things they struck me on the back of the head, and whilst I was on the floor they kicked me a couple of times in the stomach. I have the footprints to prove that, if you need them. Obviously they'd never heard the saying about kicking a man when he's down.  
  
"The first guy was a Caucasian male, late teens, early twenties, blond spiky hair - he looked like he had just plugged himself in. He was wearing a grey vest and blue combat trousers and on his left bicep there was a tattoo of a spider. He was quite tall, a couple of inches taller than me. The other guy was bigger. African-American. He had a navy sweat top and a pair of khaki combat fatigues. A right pair of thugs if you ask me.  
  
"They both spoke with a heavy drawl, probably Carolina. Wherever they were from, they certainly had very few manners. After they had gone I sat on the ground for a while, collecting my thoughts, I'm not sure for how long. Then, when I felt sufficiently composed, o continued on my journey to work."  
  
"How was that?"  
  
"Beautiful Sir. If you could just sign and date it at the bottom, we'll be on our way, see if we can't catch the culprits." Sam signed and dated his statement.  
  
"You know who they are?" an astonished Josh asked.  
  
"We have our suspicions, sir. We have our suspicions."  
  
With that, the two police officers picked up the statement and proceeded our of Sam's office, leaving the Communications bullpen in a flash and a flurry. Silence momentarily prevailed, until, that is, Josh broke it.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You do know that it was a police statement and not a creative writing assignment, don't you?"  
  
"Sure. You think that I went too far?"  
  
"No. No. As the officer said, it was beautiful. Not many verbs, though. I get the feeling that, had he been present, Toby would have turned a particularly interesting shade of purple."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"Yeah. Just a hunch though."  
  
"OK."  
  
Toby walked into the room.  
  
"Everything done?"  
  
"Yeah." Affirmed Josh.  
  
"You OK Sam?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks."  
  
"They think they know who did it. They recognised them from Sam's description, about which, by the way, the committee for the Nobel Prize for Literature has been informed." Sam glared while Toby rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh dear God. Josh, please tell me he didn't."  
  
"He did."  
  
"He did? Oh God."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Your head hurt, Sam?"  
  
"A little."  
  
"You feel tired?"  
  
"A little."  
  
"Do you want to lie down?"  
  
"I'm fine. Thanks, Toby."  
  
"You want to do some opposition prep. just you, me and my couch?"  
  
"How could I refuse an offer like that?"  
  
"Does that mean that I now have to go and put up with the life and loves of Donnatella Moss?"  
  
"Yes, Josh." Said Toby. "And no doubt you'll have a large number of questions to face and rumors to quash."  
  
"The Spanish Inquisition is nothing compared to being grilled by Donna." Josh nodded the affirmative. "You going to be all right, Sam?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You take it easy, OK." Josh said as he reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Come on. Let's get you next door." Toby offered Sam a hand to help him to his feet. Sam stoically declined and stood by himself, following Toby around and into the older man's office. Once inside, Sam sank back on the couch whilst Toby moved the chair from behind his desk and moved it nearer the couch. He grabbed a wad of papers and his laptop. "You ready to start work?"  
  
"Bring it on!"  
  
"Where so you want to start, Sam?"  
  
"I think we should begin with the lex talionis [an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth]."  
  
"OK. Any other. requests?" Toby could see that Sam was talking from the heart.  
  
"I'm very pleased you asked, Toby. No doubt the country would benefit greatly if we based our justice model on the Islamic Shari'a law, except I'd be tempted to cut off more than the criminals hands."  
  
"Oh good."  
  
"Of course, we could always opt for rehabilitation."  
  
"That's what we're looking to do Sam, this is opposition prep."  
  
"I mean," Sam carried on heedless of what Toby was saying, "Karl Menninger had some great ideas in the 60's about medicalizing criminality. Give the crooks cocktails of drugs, electric shock treatment, full-frontal lobotomies."  
  
"And we're back to the maiming." Toby muttered, putting his head in his hand. "Bonnie." He yelled.  
  
"Toby?"  
  
"Go find Josh Lyman for me. Tell him to bring a straight jacket."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just do it Bonnie." Toby said in a tone that seemed rather resigned. "Does your head hurt, Sam? I mean really, does your head hurt?  
  
"It's OK"  
  
"No Sam, it's really not. I mean, does your head hurt? We're not allowed to do things like that. I'm pretty sure that might count as an infringement of something important, if only I could remember what. Oh! I know! The Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the UN Declaration of Human Rights."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"What?" Toby asked more out of shock at the man's quiet tone than anything.  
  
"I said I'm sorry. I guess that I'm just a bit cranky; my head aches, my stomach is sore and I have the overwhelming desire." Sam yawned, "to fall asleep."  
  
"OK. You want to lay down?"  
  
"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry. I guess, I guess that I'm just mad with the guys that did this. Not knowing whether or not they've been caught." Sam's voice was soft. Almost broken.  
  
"It's OK. Just tell me one thing though, Sam. Did you have all that really heavy stuff you just threw at me in your briefcase?"  
  
"Yeah. I've been working on it at home." Toby smiled. "What?"  
  
"Nothing, Sam." I just hope that they read it. Toby added to himself.  
  
There was a light knock on the door, and Josh opened it and entered quietly.  
  
"Everything OK?" he mouthed. Toby half-nodded.  
  
"How are you doing, buddy?" he addressed Sam,  
  
"I guess I'm shaken. More than I thought I was."  
  
"You want me to get the First Lady?"  
  
"No!" A look of absolute horror fell across Sam's face. Josh shot Toby a nervous glance. Toby shook his head almost imperceptibly.  
  
"I think he needs to go home Josh. Could you drive him?"  
  
"What? You don't think I have work to do?" he teased.  
  
"No Josh, I don't. You're you. If you sit in a minute, I'll just go and tell Leo that Sam's going home."  
  
"But." protested Sam.  
  
"Sam is going home whether he likes it or not. He needs to relax and he needs to sleep. Do you think there's a possibility that you might be able to stay with him for a bit? Just make sure there's been no major damage done to his head." Josh understood the double entendre hidden within, the remark however, was entirely lost on Sam.  
  
"Yeah. Sure. You go see Leo, I'll sit with him." Josh sat down on the couch next to Sam and smiled reassuringly, putting his hand on Sam's knee."  
  
X ~ X ~ X  
  
"He's really been so badly affected as to need to go home?"  
  
"It shocked me too, Leo, but you know how moderate Sam usually is in his attitude towards punishment, well, today he's trying to see how many human rights conventions he can violate in one go."  
  
"Really? Sam?"  
  
"I now. He says that he's just a little cranky, but I don't want to risk coiling Sam up too tight while we're working on this Street Crime's Bill. If he gets any more tense, he'll snap."  
  
"I do see that it might cause a few problems. Who's taking him home?"  
  
"Josh."  
  
"Josh? You think that's a good idea? You know how Josh can get."  
  
"I know, but I think that having Josh around might do some good. It might make him face his demons and talk candidly for once."  
  
"You think he's keeping something from you?"  
  
"Yeah. He's as scared as hell, but he won't admit that to me. Josh, I don't know. All I know is, much as it pains me to say it, I want the old Sam back. It's nice that this new one's quiet and all, but it's just plain wrong." Leo nodded sagely.  
  
"OK. Lets just hope that it works."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks Leo." 


	5. PART IV

JUSTUS, JUSTITIA, JUSTICE!  
  
PART IV  
  
  
  
"Everything OK in here?" Toby asked as he re-entered his office. He looked concerned, he could plainly see that Sam hadn't moved an inch all the time he'd been gone.  
  
"He's been very quiet and subdued since you left."  
  
"Well, you're both free to go. Leo's given you both the all clear. Take it easy, OK? Any problems, call me, Josh." Toby instructed.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Toby held out his hand to help Sam to his feet. This time he did not spurn it. He accepted it gratefully and got wearily to his feet. He was less steady on his feet now, so consequently Toby decided that he would walk them both down to Josh's car. Sam was tired now, that much was evident. His movements were more clumsy than usual, made so by a heavy feeling of lethargy that had descended over him. Josh slipped his arm around Sam's waist and was quite surprised at how much of Sam's weight fell against him.  
  
"Toby, you wanna give me a hand here?"  
  
"Sure." Toby fell in step on the other side of Sam, he too putting his arm around Sam's middle. "God. Is he supporting any of his own weight?"  
  
"I doubt it. He's not saying much either. Toby, I'm worried."  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Yeah." Sam sounded distant.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Sam."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like I've been run over by a tank."  
  
"A tank hey?" said Toby, trying to be jovial. "It was only a truck earlier."  
  
"It grew." Toby smiled.  
  
"It's good to hear that the old Seaborn wit is still in need of improvement." Toby turned to Josh. "We'll stop by your office, get Donna to get the First Lady down."  
  
"Yeah." They about-turned and walked the short distance to Josh's office. "Donnatella!"  
  
"What is it Joshua?" she asked, indignant at the interruption, then she saw who was with Josh. "Oh my God. I mean, oh my God. Josh, something's wrong with Sam. What's wrong with Sam?"  
  
"Donna, can you go and get the First Lady down here, and call 911." Josh instructed.  
  
"Why?" asked a disoriented Sam.  
  
"You're not well, Sam."  
  
"I'm OK. I don't need to go to the hospital."  
  
"Yeah, you do." Josh responded.  
  
"Perhaps we could compromise." Toby suggested. "We'll not call 911 until after the First Lady has told you that you're an idiot and that you need to go to hospital." Sam scowled, but resigned peaceably, allowing himself to be led into Josh's office and put into a chair. Toby went to shut the office door, while Josh pulled a couple of extra seats, closer to the one in which Sam had just been put.  
  
"You want some coffee? I could get Donna to."  
  
"No thank you." Toby answered.  
  
"I could murder a cup of coffee."  
  
"You're not touching anything, Sam. Not until the First Lady has checked you out." Toby admonished.  
  
"You said you were alright Sam. You lied to me." Came a familiar voice in the doorway. "Keep your seats." It added as Toby and Josh began to rise to their feet.  
  
"Sir." They said.  
  
"Samuel?" Another familiar voice.  
  
"Oh God." Sam groaned.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"I suddenly got a whole lot worse." Sam muttered at the arrival of the daunting Abigail Bartlet.  
  
"What was that, Sam?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Let's take a look at you."  
  
"I'm OK Ma'am, really I am."  
  
"Yeah. Sure." Said Josh.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He's been very quiet, lethargic, unsteady on his feet."  
  
"You been overdoing it Sam?"  
  
"No Ma'am." Abigail Bartlet took another look at Sam's head, and once more got him to trace the movement of her index finger."  
  
"I think he's just been over exerted. I do think he needs to be checked out at the hospital, though. Just to make sure everything's in working condition."  
  
"Told you so." Said Josh smugly. "Donna." He yelled. "You can call 911 now."  
  
"I am doing Joshua."  
  
"Wait!" called Mrs. Bartlet.  
  
"Yes Ma'am?" Donna asked, sticking her blond head around the door.  
  
"Don't call 911. It will be sufficient for someone to drive him. Josh, that's your cue. Take Sam straight to G.W. I'll call ahead to let them know that you're on your way."  
  
"Thanks Mrs. Bartlet. Come on, Sam. Let's get you out of here."  
  
X ~ X ~ X  
  
15.34pm EST  
  
"I told you that I was OK. That I was just tired."  
  
"It's best to be on the safe side, Sam."  
  
Josh and Sam had just arrived at Sam's apartment, having got back from the hospital. Sam had been given the all-clear, he had, however, been sent home to rest, provided of course that there was somebody there who could supervise him until the morning; Josh obviously won that particular role. All was a consequence of the concussion and the shock of the whole experience. He had been given the instruction to get a good night's sleep, then everything would look much better (and much less green), in the morning.  
  
When they arrived back at Sam's apartment, he flopped down onto the sofa. Josh caught sight of a flashing light that emanated from the answer phone.  
  
"Ooh. You got a phone message. Want me to play it back for you." You could tell from the tone of Josh's voice that curiosity wanted him to say 'yes' so that he too would be able to hear the message, even though it was most likely of no consequence to him in the slightest.  
  
"Sure." Josh hit the play button and a familiar voice came from the speaker.  
  
"Sam, it's Toby. Are you doing OK? Perhaps you could give me a call when you pick up this message. Talk to you later. Bye."  
  
"Want me to call him?"  
  
"Yeah. If you wouldn't mind. It might be about something important." As Josh dialled the number, Sam mused. "You know what I'd really like?"  
  
"What?" he asked Sam.  
  
"Closure. I would like for this whole thing to be over with closure. I want to see the police catch the people that did this and I want to see justice. I want to see the justice that we fight for and defend in action."  
  
"I know. Oh. Hey. Toby? It's Josh. We're back at Sam's place and we just picked up your message. Yes. He's fine, just tired. Sent home to rest. I'm stopping here the night to play baby-sitter, just to make sure that he's OK. What did you call about?. Really? [laughs] It's good for something then. OK. Thanks Toby. Bye. I'll see you tomorrow." Josh replaced the receiver, then went to sit by Sam on the sofa.  
  
"Toby wanted to make sure that you were all right. He also said that there was some news that you might be interested in."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"The police called him a little while ago. They've got the guys that mugged you in police custody."  
  
"They caught them?" Sam was impressed.  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Say what?" Sam rubbed his eyes wearily. What had seemed straightforward only a moment before had suddenly got particularly complicated.  
  
"They turned themselves in and they confessed to several similar incidents."  
  
"What made them do that?" Josh smiled.  
  
"You'll just love this. It'll crack you up. When they were going through their spoils, they read your opposition prep." Sam's mouth dropped open. "Uhuh. They found out your 'position' on those sort of things. They figured that you were influential and that you could go a long way in seeing that those draconian measures were introduced and used to their greatest extent. It scared the crap out of them. So much so, that they turned themselves in hoping that it might prevent them from falling victim to any such measures."  
  
"Why did they do it?"  
  
"Toby didn't say. It certainly looks like you got your justice, though."  
  
"I guess I did. I got my closure and I got my justice."  
  
"You also discovered a nice easy way of getting criminals to confess, too. It could save a fortune for the police budget as far as man-hours are concerned. All you have to do is terrify them into submission." Josh good- naturedly put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Sam smiled ever so slightly.  
  
"Justus, Justitia, Justice!"  
  
  
  
Finis 


End file.
